


Kamikaze

by smartgirlsaremean



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Jake's voice is basically stream-of-consciousness, Missing Scene, lots and lots of introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-22 02:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: He’s nervous and she’s smitten and getting drunk was a GREAT idea.





	1. Drink One

Jake is telling her a story.

She’s not sure what story it is - something about a perp and a German restaurant and she’s probably heard it before, because they’ve been partners for  _ years _ and she’s been around for like eighty percent of his most noteworthy arrests. But he was really, really excited about telling her this story and as long as he’s talking she doesn’t have to say much, which is good because she kind of just wants to  _ look _ .

He actually cut his hair. For their date. For  _ her. _ And he’s wearing a  _ jacket _ and he held the  _ door _ for her and his hands were actually  _ shaking  _ a little bit when they first got their menus. Now, of course, those hands are flying all over the place while he describes the “totally awesome and action-packed” foot chase, and his eyes (so soft and serious before) are bright and his smile is wide and he takes a deep breath and proclaims,

“And then the guy says, ‘No wait! That’s not a gun, it’s my knackwurst!’” He looks at her expectantly and Amy bites her lip, caught. She has no idea if what he just said was supposed to be funny or surprising or horrifying, and she knows he can tell. 

“You didn't hear a word of that, did you?” he says, somewhere between offended and amused.

“Nope,” she shrugs. “That’s what you get for telling stories to One-Drink Amy. Spacey, remember?”

“ _ Or _ you were just distracted by my pretty face.” He says it almost reflexively, and he swallows when she doesn’t argue but shrugs again, smiling a little.

“You  _ do _ look beautiful tonight,” she says.

And hand to God she didn’t think it was possible, but Jacob Peralta  _ blushes _ . Like, for real, a light red flush creeping up his neck and staining his cheeks pink. She wants to giggle but he’s clearly a little out of his element and she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. In the heavy silence he reaches for his second kamikaze shot and downs it, and she picks up her own, saluting him first before following his example.

He’s nervous and she’s smitten and getting drunk was a  _ great _ idea.


	2. Drink Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWO-DRINK AMY MAKES AN APPEARANCE

Amy’s phone rings a few minutes after they’ve taken the second shot. Grumbling to herself, she pulls it out and looks at the number.

“IT’S MY MOM,” she says, and Jake jumps. Why is she…?

Oh. Two-Drink Amy.

“I’M JUST GONNA PUT THIS ON SILENT.” She does, and then drops the phone back in her purse.

“You could’ve taken it,” he tells her.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT, SHE HAS EXCELLENT HEARING. SHE’D HEAR THAT I’M IN A RESTAURANT AND THEN SHE’D WANT TO KNOW WHOM I’M HERE WITH AND I DIDN’T HAVE A PROPER COVER STORY READY.”

Jake’s ever so slightly hurt by this until he remembers that rule number one was not telling anyone right away.

“Also you’d probably make her go deaf,” he says with a grin.

“WHAT? Oh…” Amy blushes and claps her hands over her mouth. “I’m...I’m SORry, you knOW I can’t really conTROL…”

“Yeah, I know, it’s fine.” It’s hilarious, actually. Loud Amy is one of his favorites, because she doesn’t look like someone who would be loud. She looks like someone who has never had to be reminded of an indoor voice in her life. She’s so adulty and good-mannersy, the kind of girl you just know was good friends with the lunch ladies at her school and helped shelve library books during recess. The kind of girl old people smile at on the street for no real reason at all, and when they’d come into this restaurant he’d seen a couple of pleased glances sent their way, all  _ look at that nice young couple, so attractive and respectful and attentive to each other, none of that buried-in-their-phones nonsense, they’ll certainly make lovely babies _ . He’d enjoyed those glances and felt proud of his beautiful adulty girlfr...uh..jinglebin...(rule number two, no labels, man, no labels)...and proud of his own decision to cut his hair and wear one of his few nonplaid dress shirts and his only blazer.

But the glances he’s seeing right now? The ones that are wide-eyed and disbelieving at the sheer volume this woman is capable of? Those are  _ gold _ .

“So what’s your favorite book? I mean, I’d ask about your favorite movie but any answer other than  _ Die Hard _ is wrong, so I feel like we can skip that question,” Jake says, and Amy glares at him.

“STOp trYING to mAKE me TAlk,” she says. “LET me get ONE MOre drINK.”

“One more?” Jake scoffs. “You’re not aiming high enough, Santiago.” He waves their server over. “I’ll have two more kamikaze shots, please.” He grins at Amy. “What would you like, dear?  _ She hates it when I order for her, _ ” he whispers to the server, who smiles.

Amy’s lips are pressed into a thin line. “I’ll. Take. Two. More. Shots. Please.” She manages to keep her voice mostly level, but Jake can tell it’s taking every ounce of her concentration, and his face physically hurts from the size of his smile and the effort to keep from laughing. When the server walks away, he gives up, laughing until his stomach hurts and his eyes start to water. Amy shakes her head, but she’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling.

The weird thing is, there’s no other girl he would dare tease like this. On any other first date he’d be turning on his megawatt smile and his bedroom eyes and oozing charm from every pore. He’d be trying to impress her.

But Amy? Amy knows him too well to be impressed by him. She’s heard him belch the alphabet, seen him snack on crumbs at his desk, witnessed his undignified scramble away from the occasional cockroach. She’s also seen him do some of his best police work and lead the precinct on a record-breaking tactical village run. There’s nothing he can do or say that will make her think he’s anything other than what he is.

And while that’s scary as hell, it’s also comforting, in a way. She’s a million miles out of his league and he knows it, but if she’s decided he’s a romantic option worth pursuing, who is he to argue? When their drinks come, they toast and toss back drink number three.


	3. Drink Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy dances a little, but mostly she's starting to regret making those rules.

Amy’s thrilled that drink two is behind her. She  _ hates _ being loud.

While she’s on the way to the bathroom, she does a little celebratory dance, because nothing has gone horribly wrong so far and that’s more than she could have hoped for. Then on the way back, she dances some more, because when she gets back to her table she’ll get to talk to Jake some more, which is one of her favorite things.

Her killer dance moves attract some curious stares, but she stops dancing entirely when she’s a few tables away, some of her happiness fading. Their server has stopped by their table, which seems unnecessary because they still have three drinks each, not to mention that the look in the young woman’s eyes is anything  _ but _ professional. The server smiles slowly and leans closer, and Amy feels her guts twist, which is stupid because she and Jake are light and breezy.  _ Light and breezy, dammit _ . He’s not her boyfriend, and they haven’t even got around to discussing being exclusive. The rules forbid it, because being exclusive means labels and calls to parents and...she just shouldn’t be jealous right now, that’s all. Jealousy is not light and breezy. It’s against the rules.

In that moment, she  _ hates _ rules.

Taking a deep breath, Amy plasters a smile on her face and walks forward. Jake’s back is to her and the server is entirely focused on whatever she’s saying ( _ probably something trashy and inappropriate _ ) so neither of them sees her approach.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not flattered,” Jake says, and Amy’s stomach twists a little more. “It’s just that I’m here on a date with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I honestly never thought I’d make it this far, so...thanks but no thanks.”

Warmth blossoms in Amy’s chest, and as the server straightens, the two women’s eyes meet. Amy raises her eyebrows, and the server smirks and her lips form a single word -  _ Lucky _ \- before she walks away.

Jake shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, and Amy has the sudden wild urge to do that for him, but she shakes it off and finally returns to her seat, shooting him a brilliant smile. He returns it, though his looks slightly manic.

“Hey,” he says, his fingers drumming nervously on the table (apropos of nothing, Amy muses that Jake has  _ really nice _ hands). “So, uh, the craziest thing just happened…”

“Our server offered you some  _ alternative entertainment _ ?”

“Yeah, but, uh, I didn’t...I mean the  _ badass cop with the heart of gold  _ vibe is, like, irresistible, and I…”

Amy reaches out and puts her hand on his, and he swallows whatever else he was about to say. “Jake, it's fine. I trust you.”

“Really?” He looks, somehow, relieved and nervous at the same time. “I mean, I know we said ‘light and breezy,’ but I kinda wanna just be light and breezy with  _ you _ . If...if that’s…”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They smile dopily at each other for a few minutes, and then Amy picks up her fourth shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can never resist mild jealousy.


	4. Drink Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake muses on the radiant, goddess-like beauty of Amy Santiago and just barely avoids the realization that he's already completely in love with her.

Fifteen minutes into drink four, Jake’s head is spinning, and it’s only partially due to the alcohol. Four-Drink Amy is a force to be reckoned with, especially when Four-Drink Jake isn’t so great at making good decisions.

She keeps laying her hand over his on the table and rubbing her thumb across his knuckles, and a couple of times her foot has slid up his leg -  _ accidentally? on purpose? accidentally-on-purpose _ ? - and her voice has dropped to this low, husky tone that’s turning his insides to mush.

To top it all off, at some point during the night they’d ordered chips and queso, which shouldn’t be a sexy food, but Amy’s doing this thing where whenever she gets cheese on her fingers - which is frustratingly often because hello, four kamikaze shots - she slowly, carefully licks her fingers clean instead of using her napkin and it’s driving Jake absolutely insane. And then she notices him watching and grins around her finger and yeah. There’s no way he’s making it out of this restaurant alive.

Rule three is  _ killing  _ him.

Long before he realized how smart she is, and years before he learned that her competitive streak hides a sweet, tender heart, he’d noticed that Amy Santiago is a Stone. Cold. Fox.

Which, obviously, yes, he knows that wasn’t his most brilliant detective work ever. She’s got the shiny dark hair and big brown eyes that everyone notices right away. Literally no one can look at Amy and  _ not _ think  _ damn that woman is fine _ . He’s lost count of the number of times he’s wondered if her skin feels as soft as it looks, or been mesmerized by the sway of her hips while she walked away from him, or fantasized about finding out what her lips taste like. (He’s thrilled to be able to report that they taste like raspberries and that her mouth is just as good at kissing as it is at making smartass remarks.) But there’s more to her than just a mind-bendingly gorgeous face and heart-stoppingly awesome body.

There’s this beautiful, patient smile she saves just for witnesses who are super upset and need to calm down, and the first time he saw it he’s pretty sure he wasn’t able to breathe for ten whole seconds.

She also has this little frown that she makes when she’s thinking really hard about something, and her eyes kind of widen just before she has a breakthrough, and the fact that you can actually  _ see _ her being brilliant is dead sexy.

But his favorite Santiago expression of all is the one that tells him that she totally digs him, too. True, it took him a while to figure that one out, but he knows it now. Her eyes get a little squinty, and her mouth kind of twitches like she’s trying not to smile, and there’s this...look, he’s not good at words like she is, but it’s like her whole face is glowing and it’s the hottest look he’s ever seen and he just wants to see it every day for the rest of his life.

Or, uh...maybe? But maybe not.

Light and breezy, right? Light and  _ fucking _ breezy.

Amy picks up her fifth shot and offers him the most sultry smile he’s ever seen on her. “Too bad this isn’t the kind of place to allow body shots,” she purrs before tipping the alcohol down her throat, and Jake’s brain almost shorts out. She sets the glass firmly down on the table and rests her chin on her hand, and he feels her foot on his leg again, except this time it stays there, slowly stroking up and down, and...

_ Shit. _

His hands shakes as he takes his fifth shot. He can’t even taste the alcohol anymore, honestly. He is completely drunk on Amy Santiago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...that's all I've got for tonight but the next chapter is halfway done. There WILL be smut.


	5. Drink Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five-Drink Amy knows exactly what she wants, and what she wants is Jake Peralta.  
> Right. Fucking. Now.

Five-Drink Amy knows  _ exactly _ what she wants, and what she wants is Jake Peralta.

Right. Fucking. Now.

Unfortunately the Bouche Manger frowns on public displays of affection, so they end up leaving their final shots sitting on the table, tossing (probably) way too much money on the table, and practically sprinting out the door. The second they find a semi-secluded spot - the alley right next to the restaurant - Amy grabs the lapels of Jake’s blazer, shoves him up against the wall, and kisses him until neither of them can breathe.

He’s clutching her waist like she’s the only thing tethering him to the earth, and his tongue is doing incredible things, and Amy thinks again that this was the best goddamn idea she ever had. She pulls away when she starts to get dizzy - well,  _ dizzier _ \- and smiles up at him. He’s staring at her like she’s the sun and moon and stars all rolled up in one, and she nuzzles his nose with hers.

“You should take me home,” she whispers, and she feels him swallow thickly.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat. “Wouldn’t want Five-Drink Amy to go all Caped Crusader on the good criminals of New York.”

She smirks. “I’d kick  _ all _ of their asses.”

“Yeah.” He reaches up to smooth a lock of hair away from her face and her heart pounds against her ribs. “Let’s get you a cab, Batgirl.”

Her hands clutch his arm while he hails a cab, but she frowns him at him when he helps her in and then begins to close the door.

“What are you doing?” she demands.

“I, uh...my place is nowhere near yours, and…”

“I thought you were going to take me home.” She frowns at him, and through the drunkenness she sees him struggle for a second and then, thank God, he slides into the cab beside her and gives the driver his address. (They both pretend that the driver isn’t snickering at them.) When Jake places one arm tentatively around her shoulders, she snuggles in as closely as she can and reaches across to hold his other hand.

He really  _ does _ have nice hands, Amy thinks, carefully examining them. Warm and smooth and meticulously clean, not to mention strong and gentle, and…

“Ames?”

“Hmm?”

“You should maybe stop doing that.” Jake’s voice sounds strained. “Or...maybe  _ never  _ stop doing that. Your choice.”

Amy blinks, and realizes that she’s been stroking her fingers over  _ his _ fingers, up and down, for a while now, and every muscle in Jake’s body is tense. Grinning, she stretches up to press a kiss to his neck. He gives a shuddering sigh that thrills through her body and his head falls against the back of the seat, and Amy takes that as an invitation. In one smooth movement she straddles his lap, her dress riding up her legs, and commences a long, slow attack on his neck. He’s breathing heavily now, one hand sliding up her back to bury itself in her hair and the other slowly, tentatively stroking up and down her thigh. His fingers brush the lacy hem of her underwear and she gasps.

The cab comes to an abrupt stop and the cab driver clears his throat loudly.

“Guess we’re here,” Jake whispers, and Amy giggles against his shoulder.

* * *

 

When they’ve successfully disentangled themselves, Jake helps Amy out and then hands the driver the fare. “Sorry about...uh…” he says, but the cab driver laughs.

“You kiddin’? You two are hot as hell. Wish I could join ya.”

Jake grimaces and glances back at Amy, but she’s concentrating on walking up the steps of his apartment building, thank God.

“Sorry, man, you’re not our type,” he says. The cab driver shrugs and drives off, and Jake joins his date, who is squinting at the mailboxes. He takes her hand and leads her up the stairs - she only stops him to make out in the stairwell twice - and then, once he closes the door on the outside world and turns to face her, reality hits him like a sledgehammer.

Amy Santiago is here, in his apartment. She went on a date with him, laughed at his jokes, touched him a bit, kissed him a  _ lot _ , and then asked him to take her home. And now she’s standing in his living room, and he has the urge to punch himself to make sure this isn’t yet another dream.

Which is ridiculous. If this was a dream, Amy would be  _ way _ more naked than she is right now.

Oh, God. Is he about to see Amy Santiago  _ naked _ ?

“Jake?” Amy has crossed her arms and is smirking at him. “You’re being really quiet. It’s weird.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He has this weird feeling that if he talks he’ll break whatever spell she’s under that makes her think this is a good idea, that  _ he’s _ a good idea, so he decides to forego talking altogether, at least for now.

He steps forward, cradles her face in his hands, and kisses her, softly at first, then more urgently when she moans and leans closer. One hand drops to her waist and he tugs her against him, thrilling at the little gasps she makes against his mouth as he smooths his hand across the small of her back. She slides her fingers into his hair and presses closer, and he has the sudden blinding need to feel every inch of her. He shrugs out of his blazer and flings it on the floor, and Amy breaks the kiss.

“Yeah,” she whispers, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, and he stands there, kind of stunned, as she flicks them open impatiently - a few of them actually  _ pop off _ , that’s how much of a rush she’s in - and then runs her hands over his bare chest. He kisses her while he’s shrugging off the shirt, and then pulls her close again and goes for the zipper of her dress.

It catches a few times, but he manages, and his heart is nearly pounding out of his chest by the time she finally lets the dress slip off her shoulders and puddle at her feet, and then she’s standing there, all bare flesh and black lace, and no dream will ever come close to this moment.

“ _ God _ you’re beautiful,” he says, running his hands over her shoulders, and the way she launches herself at him makes him think that maybe that was the right thing to say. She pushes him until he hits the edge of the bed, and then she goes for his belt. He unhooks her bra, his head still spinning from the vodka and the kisses, and then his knees are knocked out from under him.

Not just figuratively, though his first glimpse of Amy’s breasts would definitely be enough to bring him to his knees under normal circumstances, but literally. Amy seems bound and determined to get his pants off, and she pushes him back against the bed until he has no choice but to sit down.

Which is fine, really. He’s now eye-level with a part of Amy he never thought he’d see, and he takes full advantage, and as long as he’s looking he might as well touch right? But even as he’s running his hands up her sides, she steps back.

“But…”

“Pants  _ off _ , Peralta,” Amy orders, and if he were a little less drunk he might try to hide exactly how hot he finds this side of her. Hastily he shoves his jeans the rest of the way down his legs and kicks them as far away as he can. “Good,” she murmurs, stepping closer again, and then things get even  _ better _ when she kneels on the bed, straddling his lap.

He explores her chest slowly, encouraged by the sounds she’s making and the clutch of her fingers in his hair, and the way she shakes when he flicks one of her nipples with his tongue makes him wish he could do that forever. His hands have been busy too, running over her hips and her ass ( _ and by the way how crazy is it that he is currently touching Santiago’s ass? who says dreams don’t come true?) _ and when he slips one hand between her thighs and she doesn’t make any move to stop him he does a mental fist pump.

She touches her forehead to his, clutching his shoulders when he runs one finger over the gusset of her panties -  _ holy hell she’s actually wet for him this night just keeps getting wilder _ \- and he realizes that, for the moment, at least, his mouth his free, and suddenly, talking seems like a _great idea_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only problem with trying to write sexy stuff is that there is literally no word for the posterior that I find sexy. Butt? Ass? Bottom? Rear end? Buttocks? Bottom? Blech, I don't like any of them.  
> There's a weird POV shift in this one but...I really wanted the next chapter to end with Amy's so...  
> Anyway, thanks for the kudos and comments, you are all very sweet!


	6. Crash (Into Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy's date ends in spectacular fashion.

Silent Peralta is weird, but not unpleasant. Amy’s not sure why he’s so quiet while she’s ripping his clothes off, but she doesn’t really  _ mind _ . It’s just a bit surprising, like the fact that he actually tried to send her home alone or that he seemed nervous when they got here. She’d worried that maybe she was pushing him too far, but then he’d curled her toes with that kiss and everything seemed to right itself.

He’s also a little less satisfied with himself than she’d expected. Jake is a good-looking guy, and he’s well aware of that fact, but here in his dark, quiet apartment there’s none of the posturing or smirking she’d half expected. He seems completely focused on her, which is flattering and also slightly unnerving, but at least it gives her the opportunity to admire the lean muscles of his arms and the dusting of dark hair on his chest and the surprising firmness of his abs without interruption.

Of course, the Jake she knows isn’t the  _ whole _ of him. She knows that. There’s always more to people than they show the world. Like, she’d bet a hundred bucks that few of their coworkers would picture her shoving Jake down on his own bed and ordering him to take his pants off, and even fewer of them would expect him to comply with such... _ eagerness _ .

It's a reaction she files away for further evaluation.

She wonders if he’ll be quiet the whole time, but then...then his fingers brush against her panties and she gasps and clutches his shoulders and, apparently, the dam breaks, and she learns yet one more thing about Jake Peralta.

He has an absolutely  _ filthy _ mouth.

And it’s  _ incredibly _ hot.

He whispers things that, sober and fully-clothed, would make her entire face burn. How she looks, how she feels, how she makes him feel, what he wants to do to her, what he wants her to do to him...his imagination knows no bounds, and Amy thinks that she could probably come like this, his fingers inside her and his mouth at her ear.

That will have to happen later, though, because Five-Drink Amy is still in charge, and she wants more from Peralta than some fingerfucking and dirty talk. He works her up until she’s panting and then she pushes him down on the mattress and tugs his boxers off in one quick rough motion. He’s hard, has been for awhile, she knows, and she feels a little swell of pride that she’s worked him up so much with so little effort. He watches with wide eyes, his mouth half-open -  _ he’d been in the middle of a sentence after all _ \- as she straddles his legs again and takes him in hand.

He curses and presses his head back into the mattress, his eyes squeezed shut. Intrigued, she strokes him a few times until he gasps her name.

“Amy,” he says, hoarse and out of breath, and yeah, that is  _ definitely _ a sound she could get used to. “Ames,  _ please _ . Don’t wanna…” He sucks in another breath when she squeezes him.

She thinks she knows what he’s saying - they’re both so drunk and horny that it won’t take much, and she, at least, wants to finish what they’ve started. So she lets go of him, stands up, and slips out of her underwear while he catches his breath and then shuffles to one side to dig around in a box that sits next to his bed and, she presumes, acts as a nightstand. He tosses her a small foil packet, and Amy kneels over him again.

In the back of her mind she’s a little surprised at how this night is ending, because she’s strictly a “no sex until the third date” woman. She  _ never _ moves this fast this soon, and certainly she always plans ahead, always makes sure she has condoms and maybe even a change of underwear in case of a sleepover. But this has always been Jake Peralta’s effect on her. He bulldozes his way through her rules and her walls and her plans and manages to make her feel as if no other outcome makes sense. Besides, she’s tired of pretending that she hasn’t wanted this, wanted  _ him _ , for so long that she’s almost forgotten what it was like not to.

She rolls the condom on and kisses him again, and her mind goes pleasantly blank.

Things escalate quickly after that: a tangle of sweaty limbs and a cacophony of gasps and whispers and moans. It might be the vodka, but everything feels amazing and he’s hitting all the right spots, and then at a crucial moment he pulls her down so that she’s flush against him and Amy sees stars. He curses and shakes and follows her over the edge, and Amy rests her head on his shoulder and feels their heart rates slow down.

After a minute or two she slips off of him and slides under the blanket, watching as he disposes of the condom and then rejoins her. The air is thick and Jake stares at the ceiling, still a little out of breath.

“So,” he says almost casually, “we broke a rule.”

“Yeah. I hope it wasn’t a mistake.”

“I-hope-it-wasn’t-a-mistake-title-of-your-sex-tape,” he says, then gasps. “Title of  _ our _ sex tape!”

Amy smiles and moves until she’s nestled against his side, one arm draped across his waist. He slides his arm under her and around her shoulders and she sighs.

“You, uh...you’ll stay, right?” He sounds both concerned and drowsy, and Amy smiles against his skin.

“Of course.”

“Good.”

His breathing deepens and Amy knows without looking that he’s asleep. She tugs the blanket over both of their shoulders and joins him. She’s never been so happy about breaking a rule in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure I dated myself with that chapter title. Oh well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This is my first ever B99 story. Peraltiago grabbed me and won't let go. Please be kind.


End file.
